


The roar of a bike

by IronStars, MountainRose, RossKL, talktothesky, tobedecided



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Meetings, Human Disaster Tony Stark, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mistaken Identity, biker!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 01:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronStars/pseuds/IronStars, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainRose/pseuds/MountainRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RossKL/pseuds/RossKL, https://archiveofourown.org/users/talktothesky/pseuds/talktothesky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobedecided/pseuds/tobedecided
Summary: Tony gets lost in New York -don't ask him why, all right, he's not proud of it.Steve mistakes him for a hooker.Co-written for the Put On The Suit Discord Server Relay.





	The roar of a bike

Tony is lost.

He doesn’t want to admit it and, if asked out loud he wouldn’t recognize it, but he’s not stubborn enough to deny it any longer, at least to himself. That ship sailed about ten minutes and six streets ago.

He could blame this on technology, on his phone and its black screen and its drained battery.

He doesn't remember the last time he had to navigate a city and he didn’t have his phone to help him. And even if he would be willing to take up the challenge of using a good old-fashioned paper map, it’s not like he’s going to find a tourist information spot in the middle of nowhere at 2 in the goddamn morning.

But if Tony searches his soul hard enough, he knows the blame for the situation resides solely on him. For the sake of his ego, however, he’s going to continue cursing Happy’s and Rhodey’s names and, as soon as he’s able to get himself out of this hellhole, he’s going to make his displeasure at them loudly known.

They should have never bet him he wouldn’t be able to move around New York City on public transportation. They should have never taunted him so much that his innate competitive streak awoke.

And yes,  _ he _ shouldn’t have said yes no matter how much that would make it seem like he was completely useless and dependent on them but how was he supposed to know his phone, his back-up phone and his portable charger would all fail him like this?

And how was he supposed to know that the rickety and rattling sound of the bus would be so soothing that it would put him to sleep after a thirty-two hour work-binge? How was he supposed to know that would mean he’d wake up in the last stop of the bus route with no idea of where he was?

Tony has been walking for maybe half an hour and he’s quite sure he’s passed this same abandoned warehouse at least three times now. It’s so dark outside that it’s difficult to differentiate one street from another and there are no numbers or names he can use as guidance. Goddamnit, NYC is the one city that is designed not to be lost in but this is an area Tony has never in his life set foot in. He’s not even sure what borough this is.

Tony sighs for the thousandth time and he wraps his arms around himself, trying to keep warm in the late night April chill. He finds himself dragging his feet and kicking a small pebble to the side with the tip of his right shoe when a noise breaks the silence that’s been accompanying Tony since the moment he stepped out of the bus.

Tony finds himself paralyzed as the sound gets closer and closer.

A bike. It’s the roar of a bike.

The bike makes its appearance from Tony’s right side, the light almost blinding him for a moment. The motorcycle stops right next to him and he can only make out a dark silhouette at first until the light moves and it’s not hitting him directly in the face anymore.

In the time it took Tony to regain his vision the guy atop the bike has taken the helmet off and is now looking directly at him.

And Jesus-fucking-Christ, the guy is absolutely stunning.

_ I’m going to die here in god knows where but at least this gorgeous specimen will be the one to kill me, _ Tony thinks.

That’s the moment when the stranger gives him a heated, quick once-over. Before Tony can really process that, though, the man locks eyes with Tony’s and speaks. “How much for the night?”

Tony double-takes. What? 

“Excuse me?” He hasn’t been talking for hours – if you don’t count the accidental curse to himself for this situation – so his voice comes out rougher than usual. And if he’s being honest with himself, looking at the perfect face of Mr. poster-boy-of-America Adonis here doesn’t help his cause, either. 

Adonis who has clearly mistaken him for a hooker. 

Tony resists the urge to groan.

The stranger smirks. 

Then he gives Tony a slower once-over, taking in his leather jacket, his tight old t-shirt, his worn-out jeans. Tony feels his chest and face flush under that heated gaze. 

Alright, his clothes are misleading, he realizes. 

In his defense, he didn’t plan on falling asleep on the goddamn bus and waking up alone in the streets of God knows which neighborhood.

The stranger licks his lips before looking at Tony’s face again. “I said,” and his tone is lower now, as if the situation weren’t suggestive enough already, “how much for the night?” His eyes never leave Tony’s.

Tony takes another look at the man in front of him – at his massive chest and strong thighs and handsome face and blond hair and- are those blue eyes? – and for a moment he’s tempted to name a price. He really wouldn’t mind a ride, pun intended.

But then again, the man looks like he’s strong enough to be able to kill him without breaking a sweat. 

Tony tries to ignore the sparkle of arousal that courses through him at that thought. 

“As much as I hate to miss out on that,” he says, gesturing at the man’s body, “I’m not a hooker,” Tony says. “I’m just—”

“Kidding?” the man interrupts him, smiling. He has a dubious look on his face, though.

“—lost,” Tony finishes, embarrassed. There’s no way in hell he’s going to explain to Adonis how this happened. “My phone died, my other phone died too, and the taxis seem to have vanished and I’m never going to take another goddamn bus in my life again, no matter what Rhodey or Happy say—” 

He stops abruptly, as he realizes he's been doing exactly what he intended not to – nervously blabbering every word of this out loud, to Hot Stuff, after all.

God, he’s such a mess – but at least he’s kept the most embarrassing bits private.

And now the stranger looks amused. 

Tony wants to die. It’s not his finest day.

“So, not a hooker, huh?” the man asks. Tony shakes his head. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. This is not the best neighborhood to get lost in, I’m afraid.” 

Tony had figured that out, all right. 

Before he can open his mouth to reply, though, the stranger continues. “I can give you a ride, if you want.”

A mental image of himself straddling the other man right on his bike flashes through Tony's mind. Once there, the mental picture sticks to his brain, and for a moment he can’t stop thinking about biting into the stranger’s neck as he lets the bike roar underneath them, Tony’s hands on those large shoulders, holding on for dear life as Adonis runs his fingers through his hair and thrusts up— 

Oh God, yes.

The look on the man’s face is the only thing that brings Tony back to reality – and tells him that once again he’s said that aloud, Jesus Christ.

But instead of driving away, leaving Tony to his fate by the side of an empty road at two in the morning with only a few flickering street lamps to guide his way; the man laughs. A deep, rumbling sort of noise echoing the hum of the bike beneath his incredible thighs- accentuated by unfairly tight jeans, forcing Tony to wonder about the last time he got laid.

This guy was driving his libido insane and Tony decidedly wasn’t youthful anymore.

“We could see about that, as the night goes on.” The blonde’s words peter off into soft chuckles, the smile on his face softer than it was when sex was the focus of his attention. It only aims to remind Tony that the blonde finds him attractive and despite knowing he isn’t a hooker, is still willing to tap what his mama gave him.

“Technically, it’s morning.” Tony being Tony, his mouth has to run off without him and make him sound like a smartass; he internally cringes, hoping beyond hope that this guy won’t suddenly decide he’s not worth the hassle and leave him here with no way of getting home.

Back to square one.

With a dubious look, the man offers up his helmet with a shake, the easy smile still on his face but looking more amused by the second and really, Tony should cut his losses and get out of there before he embarrasses himself further.

But the pull of this guy is too much for his relatively sleep deprived mind and before he realises it, Tony’s carefully extracting the helmet from Adonis’ hand and failing at shoving it onto his head gracefully.

It elicits another laugh at his expense.

As Tony slides a leg over the bike’s seat behind the blonde, the vibrations of the engine shock his body awake- certain areas more so than they already were- and the little self preservation he has kicks in; what did he think he was doing, getting onto a stranger’s bike at stupid o’clock in the morning in bumfuck nowhere? With no money, no phones, just this guy’s interest and oddly placed kindness.

He has heard about hookers and sex workers being preyed upon because of how easy it is to get them into a vehicle with the promise of money and easy eyes. It’s disgusting and terrifying.

Although Adonis, who Tony is happily making himself comfortable with, wrapping his arms around a surprisingly slim waist and spreading his fingers over washboard abs- didn’t appear to have an ulterior motive and even offered to send Tony home after discovering his profession doesn’t entail less clothing and a more secluded location.

“Comfortable?” The noise rumbles through Tony’s chest pressed tightly to the man’s back and he nods, but realises the guy isn’t able to see it.

“I could get comfier.” Tony wiggles slightly in his seat but stills just as quickly, suddenly aware of what he is doing. A thirty-two hour work-binge isn’t only terrible for public transportation apparently, considering the number of times his mouth has opened before his brain can tell him what a terrible idea it is.

Still, the blonde shuffles back, reinstating the contact between them and revs the engine.

Or at least, Tony thought it was the engine.

Slowly, the man’s shockingly blue eyes peer over his broad shoulder and Tony cowers inside the helmet, flush with embarrassment when it clicks that the noise sounded far too much like a gurgle and less like the powerful roar of the bike. Another downside to long hour work-binges was that he rarely eats.

Tony shuts his eyes for a moment and pretends he’s invisible. That’s how this works, right?

No such luck.

Blue eyes meet brown and this time Tony can’t will himself to look away. “Hungry?” the man asks, in a low, yet highly suggestive voice.

“Starving, actually,” Tony hears himself say, his mouth forming a response without much thought. He can’t help but cringe internally. Is sleep deprivation all it takes to wipe away his self-control these days?

Adonis gives a soft chuckle. “Well, you won’t find anything open around here.”

“I’ve gathered as much,” Tony says dryly. He’s growing tired of looking like a complete fool. “Anyway, where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“Brooklyn.” Judging by the man’s amused expression, Tony must’ve failed to mask his surprise. “If you need to eat, you’re in luck. I know just the place.”

Common sense, which Tony promptly threw out the window upon leaving Tower, begins to make a reappearance. The potential for this guy to be a serial-killer is undoubtedly high. And while Adonis would make for quite an attractive serial-killer, he’d be a killer nonetheless.

His rescuer-to-be must’ve picked up on his hesitation. Tony feels the man’s shoulders shrug under his worn leather jacket. “It’s up to you.” Was there a hint of disappointment in his tone? “I don’t mind making an extra stop.”

Fuck it. Red flags be damned. Tony would be lying if he said this back-and-forth wasn’t taking up every last ounce of his fleeting restraint. “I can’t pull up Yelp, so I’d be trusting your recommendation,” he says, finally.

Adonis nods before shifting forward again. He doesn’t say a word, but Tony’s almost positive he’s silently reveling in victory.

***

The darkness of Brooklyn begins to brighten as they depart the outskirts of the borough’s warehouse district. It’s not long before they reach their destination.

It’s a 24-hour diner. Not the most inconspicuous place to commit murder.

“What do you think?” The blond asks as the engine settles.

“I think I’m about to break my intermittent fast.” Tony reluctantly releases his arms from around his rescuer’s waist. After removing his helmet with an embarrassing amount of effort, he quickly runs his fingers through his hair a few times to mitigate helmet-hair. Unsatisfied with the results, he turns around to discover Adonis watching him with much amusement.

The man reaches to hold open the door. “Why deny yourself?” 

“You’re a bad influence,” Tony teases as he steps forward into the refuge of the nearly vacant diner.

Suddenly there’s a distinct warmth near his ear. “Funny you say that to me, the guy who rescued you,” Adonis whispers through a smile, his mouth dangerously close.

Unable to formulate a coherent response, Tony watches dumbfoundedly as the man walks ahead to one of the booths. And… _ oh.  _ Those jeans do nothing for that man’s ass, but thankfully Tony has a pretty active imagination. He’s beginning to dread getting back on the motorcycle now, once again having to attach himself to Adonis, completely and utterly unable to hide his excitement.

After a moment, Tony manages to recover enough to join his rescuer in the booth.

The waitress, unfazed by their sudden arrival, promptly appears to take their orders. Tony quickly decides on a burger and fries but makes a mental note to ask about the banana split for dessert.

Adonis, on the other hand, simply orders a black coffee.

“So,” Tony begins as the waitress disappears to the kitchen. “We’ve established why I’m out at this ungodly hour. This begs the question, what are  _ you _ doing out this late?”

Adonis takes his time answering, stretching out over the back of the booth. His chest is something out of a Men’s Health magazine and Tony’s almost forgotten the question by the time it gets answered. 

“Just cruising. Little quiet at home tonight.” 

Tony flushes hot; yeah, of course. “I hope I’m good company, then. Make up for my uh...misleading appearance.” 

The man laughs and drops his arms off the back of the booth, losing the pose and going softer and more relaxed. “You’re fine. When I say cruising, I mean the bike; she’s a gorgeous ride at night. There’s a reason I have a full muffler.” 

Tony perks up; she  _ had _ sounded gorgeous, in a subdued, throaty way. “Who doesn’t like growl on an engine. Four-into-one?” 

The man’s eyes flash and he leans forward on the table. “Yeah, carbon fiber, modular. I’m still working on the fuel intake calibration. You know bikes?” 

Tony puts his hand over his heart, leaning in. “I have a Ducati Diavel. Carbon. Two-one-two exhaust, V-twin. The torque is something  _ else. _ ” 

“Christ, now I really need your number— _ Ducati _ . The 2012 model? What’s her top pull?”

Tony grins. “That’s the one. One six zero, at nine point five K. She’s a beast.” 

Adonis visibly swallows and makes a show of adjusting his jeans. Tony snorts out loud and then breaks down into helpless laughter when the guy actually fans himself. 

The waitress slides in quietly, putting down Tony’s burger and basket of fries without interrupting, but it still bleeds off a little of the intensity and they take a second to breathe. Tony stuffs a fry in his mouth and remembers exactly how ravenous he is; he shoves a few more in after it. 

“Steve Rogers, nice to meet’cha.” Steve holds his hand out across the table and Tony scrambles to wipe his fingers on the napkin.

“Tony Stark, likewise.” They shake hands and Tony really doesn’t want to let go after; Steve is...very warm. 

Steve steals from his basket of fries as they sit back and at this point, Tony doesn’t even mind. It’s more than worth it for the flash of pink tongue when Steve licks the salt off his fingers; Tony takes a big bite of burger to keep himself from making obnoxious hooker jokes. 

Once he’s started, the beast in his belly takes over and he eats as quickly as humanly possible.  _ God _ , he’s starving. When he resurfaces, Steve is watching him with a soft look in his eye, nursing his cup of coffee.

Tony pats his lips clean with the napkin and checks his beard for stray mayo. He  _ can _ be civilised, but  _ man _ , it doesn’t come naturally. 

“So. Still want my number?” It comes out more nervous than he’d like, but the look on Steve’s face... He goes dark and wanting, like he’s seconds away from licking his lips and taking a bite. “Because as first dates go, this is going pretty well.”

Steve goes from lusty to delighted in half a second and he grins wide; its fucking adorable. “Yeah, Tony. I’d love your number. Here.” Steve holds out his phone, unlocked. 

Tony texts himself a motorbike emoji and snaps a picture for the contact card. “We should go for a ride sometime,” he says, flipping the phone back over and holding it out. 

Steve hums and instead of taking the phone back, takes Tony’s whole hand in his grip, fingertips sliding into Tony’s sleeve with a silky promise. 

“I’ll let you ride me, anytime.”

Tony swallows a squeak. “Yep. Yeah, that sounds. Great. Let’s — ” He looks up for the waitress and waves enough cash to pay the bill and then some, she  _ winks _ at him and waves them out. Tony scrambles gracelessly to his feet, still clutching Steve’s phone. “Let's do that — now, please. My place is in Manhattan — ”

“Mine’s closer.” Steve still has his wrist and they tumble out into the street. Tony turns to Steve, hands landing on that thick chest, and Steve keeps walking until they’re pressed together from thigh to lips. 

Tony sighs out a whimper and surges up into the kiss, chasing the taste of coffee and the lush heat of Steve’s mouth. The bike bumps against the back of his thighs and he arches into Steve’s body, the thought of being trapped between Steve and the monster bike making him dizzy and the world hot and hazy. They break for air and Steve lifts Tony up onto the seat by his thigh, making Tony’s head swim. 

“Ready?” 

“Take me for a ride, Rogers.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Put On The Suit Discord Server Relay Event, by the following authors:
> 
> \- [talktothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talktothesky/pseuds/talktothesky); from the beginning to "_I’m going to die here in god knows where but at least this gorgeous specimen will be the one to kill me_, Tony thinks."  
\- [RossKL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RossKL); from "That’s the moment when the stranger gives him a heated, quick once-over." to "The look on the man’s face is the only thing that brings Tony back to reality – and tells him that once again he’s said that aloud, Jesus Christ."  
\- [IronStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronStars/pseuds/IronStars); from "But instead of driving away, leaving Tony to his fate by the side of an empty road at two in the morning with only a few flickering street lamps to guide his way; the man laughs." to "Another downside to long hour work-binges was that he rarely eats."  
\- [tobedecided](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobedecided/pseuds/tobedecided); from "Tony shuts his eyes for a moment and pretends he’s invisible." to "This begs the question, what are _you_ doing out this late?"  
\- [MountainRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainRose/pseuds/MountainRose); from "Adonis takes his time answering, stretching out over the back of the booth." to the end.


End file.
